Glorfindel The Cannibalistic Taxidermist
by sylc
Summary: A series of stories about Glorfindel the cannibalistic taxidermist. Alternative universe, obviously. Contains explicit violence.
1. Stuffed Frodo

Glorfindel was an avid taxidermist.

He had every known creature of Middle-earth in his collection. All except one.

"Frodo," he said brightly as he escorted the hobbit through his display rooms. "Let me introduce you to my friends. Now this is a horse - Asfaloth's sire, this is a baby oliphaunt, this is a warg…"

"You have an elf? A-and a man?"

"Ah, this is Nimrodel; dear lass. And here is Arathorn, Aragorn's sire."

"I-impressive."

"But you see, Frodo, I am missing a creature."

"And what is that?"

Glorfindel bent down and eagerly looked the hobbit in the eyes. "You."


	2. The Creature Next Door

Wonder what that creature is that has moved in next door. Am very curious. Elrond tells me that it is a hobbit. Do not believe him. Hobbits are supposed to look like men only shrunk to half the size, yes? Or at least they do according to Elrond's medical books. This curiosity does not resemble a man at all. It is round, furry – almost silky, and it squeaks and goes "tee hee hee" when I poke it. Definitely not a hobbit. I do not care if Elrond has squeezed it into a sleeping robe and stuck a bonnet on its head. It is not a hobbit. I will believe it is a strange swollen hairy sack of potatoes before I believe it is a hobbit.

Told this to Erestor yesterday when he came to pick up his nephew. Silly counsellor accused me of stealing his nephew. I was only measuring him up.

Just in case.

Maybe will try again later. Will have to gag him next time; he is a bawler. Not even patting him on the head or lifting Nimrodel's skirt to let him have a peep will calm him.

Cursed brat.

Attractive, though. Would suit my décor nicely. Would also get back at Erestor for suggesting – with that smile – that I should collect the hobbit and add that monstrosity to my collection.

Ha! Maybe I _should_ collect it. Just to spite him. Or collect both. That would show him twice over. Though to tell the truth, am not very enthusiastic about having such a round ugly hair blob in my rooms. Would definitely detract from the décor.

Maybe should turn it into a seat? My own version of Elrond's spherical health chairs? Maybe I could stuff it loosely with hithlain so that it is bouncy? Maybe have Maglor sit on it with legs apart and his expression just so? Could change his eyeballs to black ones too. Nice and furry and steamy and provocative… ooh, that would add a little animal to the parlour. Feel all hot just thinking about it.

Ho hum. Can hear the creature bouncing on the walls next door. Elrond said it is sleeping. Sleeping, Asfaloth's bum! If that thing is sleeping, it is sleeping like the head of a dead orc sleeps when I choose it for a spot of footsie.

Wish footsie were still popular. Younger generations are so droll about the treatment of carcasses. Cannot even grab a bit of spare flesh for lunch now without getting someone all bow-stringed. So annoying.

Can usually snitch a barbecued bit off the thigh or flank from the pyre when nobody is looking, though. Have altered the sleeves of my funeral robes to carry little seasoning bottles. So useful.

Gil-galad tasted so nice. Ooh, am drooling just thinking about him.

Wonder if that round so-called hobbit thing tastes good too. Certainly has a lot of flesh on him. Good sized for carrying too. Could easily fit it in the oven.

Stuff it or cook it?

Stuff it or cook it?

Maybe should do a taste test first. Take a slice from a place where no one will look if I stuffed it later: underarms or the inner thighs or a bit of testicle.

Wonder if it goes well with honey.

Or how about a spot of butter with chopped apples and walnuts? Or a bit of soy sauce. Can just imagine that lovely plucked skin all brown and crackly and crispy and full of flavour… tear it with my fork… savour the flavour… oooooooh. And then the flesh underneath all... well, I wonder what colour it would be….

Light or dark flesh?

That is it! Will have to do a taste test.

Wonder what to do with the carcass if I do not like the flavour and decide not to display it, though. Bodies are so hard to dispose of easily here. Cannot even put them in the compost nowadays, let alone the waste bin in my room. Someone will always complain and then it will become the next subject for discussion at yet another of Elrond's councils.

Maybe send the hobbit-thingy in a barrel down the Bruinen?

Oh, but then some silly elf is sure to go out fishing and pick it up, thinking it is full of wine. What a funny surprise for them.

Hm. Hobbity-thingy stewed in wine. Wonder how that would taste.

Then again, I need not dispose of it by getting rid of it. Maybe should just chop it up into little pieces and deliver it to the kitchen and dump everything into the scraps bin. They can put it in the elflings' breakfast broth or something…

Oh? The bouncing has stopped. Perhaps the little beastie is tired. Yes, yes, I hear the bed creaking now. Fall asleep, fall asleep. What a perfect opportunity for me.

Maybe will turn the hobbit thingy into my new bedside table. Silky fur might be nice to stroke as I go to sleep. Just the right height too.

I could use my mallet to dent a little plateau on the top of its head; to hold my lamp and comb.

Yes, yes. What a good idea. Where is my work knife?


	3. Easter Catch!

Have decided that Easter is a very useful time of year. Quite like it now in spite of the preponderance of unhappy hens, smashed eggs, and grotesque looking stuffed rabbits about the house.

Made good use of the annual Easter Egg hunt. Almost thought I would miss it as Elrond requested I do some paperwork for him in his study at the last moment.

Very useful, Elrond's balcony. Broke my thumb on Erestor's deck chair on my descent, however, but as luck would have it, caught one of his nephews egg-hunting a few minutes later beside the Bruinen so have removed chocolate egg chip from shoulder. Name of elfling is Melpomaen, I believe. Unfortunately the littler one, the prettier one - Lindir... or was it Lindt?... is sick today from eating too many chocolate eggs and so is not participating in the egg hunt, but being watched over by Erestor in Erestor's rooms. Melpomaen's arms were full of chocolate eggs when I found him, so was relatively easy to lead him away without too much trouble as he was reluctant to release his little hoard to struggle. He had also gagged himself with a mouthful of chocolate so screams were muffled and... oddly enough... he seemed quite happy for me to bulk up his gag even more by shoving more chocolate in his mouth. Children are quite amazing!

Have changed Maglor's eyeballs to pastel blue and painted his lips bright baby pink. Quite Easterish. Fluffy pink bunny ear headbands and tails arrived in bulk from Mirkwood just in time as well so have added them to each creature in my collection save for the headless orc (bit difficult for obvious reasons, but gave him a tail). Legolas' bunny brand has taken on new heights of kinkiness. User manual suggests all sorts of obscene acts. After a little rearranging, settled for Orc on Beleg for the bunnies in Spring look. Beleg does have that coy want-to-be-dominated bunny look, what with that little lock of hair that hangs just so over his left eye. Quite sexy and cute and bunnyish... fluffy pink bunny bits look good on strong sexy smooth black orc skin. Pink on black. Ooh, lovely!

Have sat Melpomaen down on the hobbity thingy from the other day. He is bouncing up and down on it and shoving more chocolate in his mouth. Have decided that stuffing him today is a good deed as with his appetite he will undoubtedly grow up into a flabby blob as stout (and as smelly) as old Salgant. Best to nip and tuck them when they look their prime, I think. Yes, yes. Although on second thoughts Erestor's family does have a pedigree for thinness rather than stoutness.

Never mind. Best to stay on the safe side, I think.

Have lost my work knife again. I am sure I used it to create the decapitated and sewn back together look on Gil-galad. Ohoho! There it is on Elros! Am amazed that Elrond has not noticed I have his twin brother in here yet. Then again, I do tend to keep Elros at the back with half his skin off his face most of the time. He still does not look quite right. Perhaps I smoothed too many of his wrinkles out on his face. His cheeks do look a little shiny and stretched. Dreadfully hard, this trying to make old humans look like handsome young elves work. Even worse, the more I work on him, the more he looks unlike Elrond.

Will just lift his eyebrows a bit more and file another slice off the bridge of his nose. There, there. Good. Wish Elrond had not confiscated my painting of young naked Elros. Such a useful reference. Admittedly I _did_ steal it from Elros' bedroom wall at his funeral, though.

Melpomaen says he feels sick. Have taped up his mouth with Nimrodel's brassiere to stop any vomit and stuck him in the bath where I slit throats. Will not have vomit in my workroom. Nimrodel does not need her brassiere any more anyway. Have enlarged her breasts and made them that much firmer that a brassiere is no longer necessary.

Melpomaen has turned a strange green colour. Most disturbing. Do not wish to display a stuffed elfling with a green face. Viewers may even accuse me of trying to show them a hobbit crossed with a frog instead of a real elfling. Saruman comes to critique them every time there is a White Council and he is so critical. Spiteful too. I am sure he whacks their heads with the end of his staff when my back is turned. So many heads need reattaching after he visits my showroom. Then again, I suppose it is tit for tat. After all, I _do_ occasionally nick a little bit off the flanks of his dried servants when I visit him. They are dark-skinned, bow-legged, and look very much like orcs. Most peculiar as I thought orcs were our enemies. Never mind. They taste good. Anything that tastes that good cannot be bad. He makes a lovely orcish-servant pancake. Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! He is so good with a frypan. Can flip those things right up high in the air in Orthanc. So high that I cannot see them in the darkness. Almost to the roof. So amazing. Respect him so much, even if he does spank my collection around a bit. Still, that is half of the slap and tickle now, is it not? Gil-galad would never let me paddle him or tweak him round the dairy before he was skewered on Sauron's pole. But now? Hahaha!

Wish Arwen would spend more time in Imladris. Would like her to stand right there beside the door. Nice, dazzling bit of beauty to stun visitors. Now that would be lovely. Maybe could position her hand to make a rude sign at them? Oh, that would be striking! Until then, will have to settle for Maglor making the sign. Fëanor's children are so attractive. Wish I had managed to get ahold of Celebrimbor before the orc arrows found him. Believe he is somewhere in Evendim. In a raised grave somewhere...

Will have to search for it one day and dig him up. He will probably be all bones now, but am getting better at reconstructing dead bodies. Practice improves one's skills, as they say. Completely reconstructing a body also allows one such freedom to change things. If I go and find him by mid-year, I can have him ready for Yule so can give him red eyes and green hair... what fun!

Melpomaen has just turned a strange purple colour. Extremely disturbed. Maybe will not stuff him. Will just splint my thumb. Ow! There. Now let me see about removing that brassiere.

Maybe did it too tight. He is not moving. He is not moving at all. And he is still purple. What to do? Where is Elrond's medical book? Wish I had not ripped out so many pages about entrails, though such pages _are_ of course, unnecessary for one in my line of work. All I need to know is how to best cook and season them.

Ooh, here is a fragment. Let me see... hm... hm... I will try this... one, two, three... one, two, three...

Am so not blowing in that disgusting chocolate covered Nimrodel breast-scented mouth.

Maybe should just dump him outside Erestor's door? Yes, yes, what a good idea. Oh, but cannot just carry the twerp through the house. Someone is sure to kick up a fuss. What to do? Ah! I know! I can shove him in the hobbity thingy and roll him along. What a good idea!

Cut it open. There, there... pull out the hithlain... bundle him in... roughly sew it up. Good, good, off we go. Bouncy, bounce.


	4. Stuffed Melpomaen

Caught Melpomaen, Erestor's nephew, again today. Valar, he is fat now! Just as I foresaw! Apparently it is his begetting day today. He was alone in the garden and trying to choose which puppy of a whole basket of puppies he wanted for his birthday. I took him by the ear, the basket by the handle, and informed him that he could have both if he cared to spend an hour with me in my rooms. He said he did not want to spend any time with me and especially not in my rooms. His voice sounded so Erestorish. He must have squealed about the last time to Erestor.

Anyway, whapped him over the head before he could run away - he could only waddle anyway - and carried him and the basket back to my rooms by way of the side door and the fire escape. Very useful, fire escapes. Wish he were not so fat and heavy, though. Never mind, that saves me the trouble of wondering whether to stuff him or eat him. Will have to eat him now. Such an unsightly, grubby elfling, even if he does have a lovely pout. No good for my décor now.

Was just heating up the oven and finishing stuffing Melpomaen - why are our rear ends so small? So hard to reach in and dig out the entrails. Have to really snip, snip a bigger hole or go through the stomach. I prefer the old fashioned chicken way.

Anyway, was just stuffing the last of the puppies in there with a bit of rice and seasoning and sewing up the hole and buttocks when Erestor knocked on my door. Happily it was locked. Anyway, he told me that if Melpomaen was not back in his rooms within the hour, he was going to kill me.

He is overreacting, of course, but better to be safe than sorry. Anyway, cleaned up Melpomaen, waited until Erestor had gone, and then carried Melpomaen back to his rooms. Set him down on the floor outside his rooms. He still looks alive, so that is good. Unfortunately, though, he only looks _vaguely_ alive: he is drooling and gazing absently into space. Maybe they will just think he is drunk. One of the puppies barked so I kicked him in the stomach to shut it up. It did not shut up so had to kick Melpomaen a few more times until it did. Then Melpomaen fell over so had to reposition him. Then hid quickly when heard Erestor coming down the corridor.

As I thought, Erestor thought Melpomaen was drunk. But then, just as he was about to help Melpomaen into his rooms, another of those bloody puppies barked. Should have stomped on their heads before shoving them into Melpomaen. Did not wish to get floor of workroom dirty, though.

Oh dear, Erestor has called Elrond and now they are taking Melpomaen to the healing rooms. Oh dear, oh dear. Elrond is sure to cut open Melpomaen and find those puppies in him. What to do? Maybe they will just keep Melpomaen under observation overnight. Then I can slip in during Elrond's midnight snack break and take him back. Yes, yes, a midnight snack for me too.

Oh, but what if they open him up before then? That puppy _is_ barking, after all. Oh dear, oh dear. Oh, and now I am hungry. I always get hungry when I get upset. Better go back to my rooms. Oh, I need to hug my hobbity thingy. Oh, I need to eat something. Oh! I know! A bit of roast Melpomaen entrails. That would do me good. Oh yes.

Oh yes! Melpomaen's kidneys taste so good. What about his liver? Ohh... yes! Oh, melts in my mouth!

Will go back tonight, put Melpomaen in hobbity thingy, and bring him back here that way. Yes, yes, that might work.

Oh, I do hope they will not cut open Melpomaen today and only put him under observation. Erestor and Elrond will be so cross with me if they find out I have stuffed him for roasting. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...

Will just have to wait until midnight, then, or until Elrond or Erestor comes and knocks on my door. Oh well. Oh dear.


	5. This Is Just To Say

This is just to say

I have eaten

the elfling

that was in

the healing rooms

and which

you were probably saving

for surgery

Forgive me

he was delectable

so tender

and so warm


	6. Princely Puppies

Glorfindel the cannibalistic taxidermist beamed down at the red-hooded and cloaked elf, who was a great deal shorter and younger than him, and arguably just as pretty as he, if not more so.

He had had the great fortune of coming across the youth whilst out hunting new creatures for his collection. Now, he fancied he had found his centrepiece or his next meal.

"My, my, my, now what are _you_ doing all on your lonesome in the woods of Mirkwood?" he asked, his hands behind his back.

"I live here," the elf replied. He turned and pointed with a long pale hand down the leafy path along which he had come. There was a glimpse of green and brown beneath his red cloak, "in yonder Elf-King's halls."

"Oh? And where are you headed?"

"To Imladris," the elf replied, with a pretty smile. He readjusted his grip on the covered basket that was hanging from his right arm.

"That is a long way," Glorfindel commented, glancing at the basket. "Would you not like an escort? I am well acquainted with the road and its perils."

"Oh, I am in no need of one, though you are welcome to accompany me. I am armed and able to use my weapons." The elf nodded back at the quiver that bulged beneath his cloak at the back.

"What of food?"

"Oh, I intend to catch it. I do know how."

"What is in your basket?"

The elf hesitated. Then, with a smile he reached down and pulled back the leaf patterned cover to reveal the small furry bodies that lay within it on the cushion and pressed tightly against each other.

"Puppies. Oh, how beautiful. You are taking them to Imladris?"

"Indeed." The elf covered the basket and began to walk. Glorfindel walked along beside him.

"Why are you delivering puppies to Imladris?"

"Oh, my family deliver puppies to Imladris every year, but the previous deliverer – my eldest brother – disappeared there under mysterious circumstances last year. We still have not discovered his body. You would not have heard of its whereabouts, I suppose?"

"What is his name?"

"Oh, he is the Crown Prince of Mirkwood."

Glorfindel shook his head, although he did have a distinct recollection of luring a certain green and brown clad elf that purported to be a Prince of Mirkwood to his oven exactly a year earlier. Oh, how tasty that elf had been! He licked his lips.

"You are his… brother?" he asked then, looking sidelong at the elf. Oh, but if this elf _was_ the sibling of that delicious dish, then he would _have_ to try him.

"Indeed. I am another Prince of Mirkwood."

"How many princes of Mirkwood are there?"

"Three."

"Hm…" Glorfindel glanced back down the path. "Your… youngest brother is not looking to accompany you, then? To be safe?"

"Oh, no. He is more interested in shooting puppies than delivering them." The elf raised his right hand and waggled the long tapered index and middle fingers at him. "He has twitchy fingers, I fear."

Glorfindel looked at the fingers and licked his lips. "I see. How unfortunate…" _…that he is not with us,_ he added in his thoughts.

Presently, they left the realm and came to the main road of Mirkwood: the Old Forest Road. Here, as night fell, the Prince shot them each a spider, which they did not attempt to cook, and then each a rabbit, which they did. They sat down beside the cheerful fire and after a merry time and chat together, it was time to eat.

"Oh, you keep your seasoning bottles in your sleeves. How useful!" the Prince exclaimed on seeing Glorfindel shaking flavoursome spices over his sizzling rabbit from the sleeves of his tunic. "May I have some seasoning too?"

Glorfindel looked at him and blinked. Then he smiled broadly. It was so rare, but oh so wonderful when food cooperated with him. "By all means," he said, and he shook his sleeves at the Prince, who sneezed when pepper flew up his nostrils.

"I did mean… ahhh-tishooo! I did mean for you to season my… ahhh-tishooo! …to season my rabbit!"

"Oh! I do apologise," Glorfindel said, and he reached into his backpack."

"Oh my… ahhh-tishooo! What a long piece of rope that is!"

"All the better to truss you up with, my dear," Glorfindel commented as he leaned over and began to do so to the unfortunate Prince.

"This is not… ahhh-tishooo! seasoning my rabbit."

"Indeed, it is not," Glorfindel said, ripping away the cloak and quiver and bow. The elf gasped.

"Ahhh-tishooo! What strong hands you have!"

"All the better to put you on this fire, my dear." And so saying, Glorfindel bundled the elf onto the low blue flames and hot coals of the fire, which burst into new crackling life around him.

"Ahhh-tishooo! What a tricky elf you are!"

"All the better to catch my supper, my dear!" Glorfindel waited for a response, but after another sneeze and few screams the Prince spoke no more. So Glorfindel sat back down beside the fire and nibbled the rest of his cooked rabbit while he waited for the body to cook to medium rare.

As soon as it was cooked and was cool to touch, he rolled it out of the fire and into the cloak. Then he drew up the corners of the cloak about it and made a twisty handle at the end.

With a chuckle he slung the sack over his shoulder, picked up the basket of yelping puppies, and continued on his merry way back to Imladris.

Out of the forest he skipped, sucking on an eyeball. Across the plains he ran, chewing on an ear. Over the mountains he hopped, sucking on the marrow. And down into Imladris he would have trotted, rolling the prince in the cloak before him and gnawing a nice lean bit of leg had not he spotted Elrond and Erestor standing on guard at the borders and waiting for him.

Out of sight of them and on the lower slopes of the Misty Mountains, he stopped, yanked the calf from his mouth, and sighed heavily. What was he to do? If they caught him with what was left of the second Prince of Mirkwood he was sure to be in the most tedious sort of trouble. Why, they would probably accuse him of offing the first Prince as well. He could see them now, addressing him with narrow eyes and folded arms and pursed lips.

"Glorfindel," they would said, "unhand the Prince of Mirkwood."

"What Prince?" he would reply.

"The one whose leg is sticking out of that sack."

"Oh, that belongs to… um… someone else."

Such tedious trouble, for then he would have to identify the body as belonging to someone else and then justify offing this someone else and as neither Elrond nor Erestor thought killing anyone except for Sauron and orcs was a good thing and the body definitely did not belong to Sauron or an orc… He sighed heavily again. What a spot of bother he was in!

He considered camping on the borders until he had finished chomping on the body, but then, his eyes falling on the covered basket, a sudden smile lit up his face.

He reached for his work knife and his needle and thread.

Not long afterwards, he ambled up to the borders of Imladris, a sack hanging from his arm. "Ah, how do you do, my friends?"

"Open the sack, Glorfindel." Elrond jerked his chin at the bloodstained red cloak. "What have you caught this time?"

"Oh, I went ahunting and caught a little litter." Glorfindel, still beaming, set down the sack and opened it. "Look how lovely and plump they look!"

"They look like Mirkwood puppies," Erestor said.

Elrond made a vague noise of agreement in his throat and contributed, "They look swollen. And dead." He looked back up at Glorfindel, his eyes narrow. "Did you meet the Second Prince of Mirkwood?"

"There is a Second Prince of Mirkwood?"

"How did you find the puppies?"

"Oh, on the mountain," Glorfindel said. "They were just lying on the ground, already dead. I am going to stuff them and add them to my collection."

At the mention of collection, both Elrond's and Erestor's faces twitched.

There was a pause.

"You have a blood moustache," Erestor observed then.

"Cut my lip."

"Why is the sack covered with blood?"

"Bled a lot."

"Hmm," Erestor said.

"Hmm," Elrond said.

The pair of them gazed long and hard at him, arms folded, eyes narrow, lips pursed.

Then finally, first Elrond and then Erestor stepped aside. "Go on, then," Elrond said.

"Thank you, my lord." Glorfindel inclined his head and made to move, when…

"Oh, and Glorfindel," Elrond said then. "That sack…"

"Yes?"

"It looks awfully like the cloak belonging to the Second Prince of Mirkwood."

"Must be mistaken, my lord. 'Tis just a sack."

"Hmm," Erestor and Elrond said then in unison. But they did not move to stop him and so Glorfindel, with a little jump and heel kick on the air, danced down into the valley of Imladris and off to his oven.


	7. Stuffed Glorfindel

The elfling Lindir observed the pacing shadow through the gap between the door and the floor from where he sat in the healing rooms on the bed neighbouring the bed in which his cousin Melpomaen was currently lying motionless, Elrond and Uncle Erestor around him. He wondered if it was Glorfindel out there and if he should warn Elrond and Erestor of the possible close presence of the fellow that his uncle called a feral, crazed, malicious, psychopathic beast. When the shadows suddenly disappeared, however, and did not appear underneath the door for a time, he decided then that perhaps Glorfindel had gone away and that there was no point in alerting the adults beside him. He looked back at his cousin who was lying stripped naked face down on the bed with a great big hole running between his buttocks up to his lower back. Elrond, who was operating on Melpomaen, kept on bending down and sticking his arm right up into Melpomaen's body, and then pulling out halves of lemon and onion and bits of rice.

Lindir wondered if Melpomaen was dead. After all, he was not moving and his colour was very bad. Not that he had been moving much when Lindir had come, on Erestor's instruction, to read to him the previous day. He had been drooling and making strange sounds then. But now he definitely did not appear to be breathing.

Lindir wondered if it was a good thing that Melpomaen was dead... if he _was_ dead. If he was not dead, then, well, that explained why Erestor and Elrond were still bothering about his body. Lindir wondered if a dead Melpomaen was better than a live one. He did not like his live cousin very much. Melpomaen liked to make fun of him and trick him with cruel jests that only he seemed to find funny.

Perhaps a dead Melpomaen was a good thing, he finally decided as he watched Elrond pull out a whole string of garlic. He sniffed. Certainly, Melpomaen smelt yummier now, if a bit too strongly of onion. Or perhaps it was the smell of antiseptic in here that was making his nose run. He sniffed again and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Then he looked back at the door and felt his lips twist into a small smile when he saw the shadow of feet behind it again. It had to be Glorfindel out there. Perhaps the taxidermist was peering through the keyhole. Lindir looked back at the body on the bed and tilted his head to one side as he observed Elrond tug a bundle of carrots tied with string and covered in bits of rice out of the crack before placing it on the two-levelled wooden trolley beside him. There was not very much blood on the stuffing. Perhaps Glorfindel had squeezed him like one squeezed a scratch to make big red droplets ooze out. Perhaps super big red droplets had oozed out when Glorfindel had cut the hole in Melpomaen's bottom. Glorfindel had cut all the way up Melpomaen's crack - straight through the bone. Lindir wondered if he had used scissors. He looked back at the shadow under the door and then sighed and reached into his pocket for some sweets. The smell of Melpomaen's stuffed body was making him hungry. Hungry for meat, though he dared not mention this to Erestor and Elrond. He frowned when he discovered that his pocket was empty and that he had eaten all of the toffees that Erestor had given him in exchange for reading to Melpomaen yesterday.

He looked back at Melpomaen. This was getting boring. All this fuss over someone who was not even a friendly person, much less alive. Lindir looked back at the shadow under the door. After a few moments of staring intently at it, he finally pushed himself off the bed. "Uncle."

"Aye?" Erestor did not even glance at him. He was busy pulling the ends of the thick string that had been used to sew up the big hole in Melpomaen's rear out of the corpse's skin.

"I am hungry. I am going to get something to eat."

"Mm-hm." Erestor did not even appear to be listening to him. Lindir's brow knitted and he shot a quick nasty look at Melpomaen. Why did his cousin always get most of Erestor's attention? He scowled and turned away to walk into the storage room and out of the locked narrow door there that led into the gardens. From there he made his way to the kitchen.

As he went, he found himself sniffing. Not with tears or because he had an itch in his nose, but because he could not seem to get the smell of Melpomaen's stuffed body out of his nose. Really, Melpomaen had smelt rather delicious... he had smelt like the best chicken, like the most succulent pork just before it was to be cooked, and when Elrond had drawn the crack wide open, the insides of Melpomaen's body had looked oh so clean and pink and fresh. Melpomaen's flesh had looked like the best meat that Lindir had ever seen in his life.

He went down to the kitchen and looked in the larder. He sniffed at a whole roast chicken and wrinkled up his nose. He nibbled at a bit of leftover pork, then spat it out. Then he went out to where the cooks were cooking and sampled a little of the duck stew and fried beef that they were preparing for lunch. But although the cooking meat tasted like duck and beef, and the chicken tasted like chicken and the pork like pork, he still could not rid his nose of the smell of Melpomaen's freshly stuffed body and his desire to taste him.

_It is no wonder that Glorfindel does not eat normal meat,_ he thought, _No wonder he eats elf meat._

With this thought in his head, he turned and wandered back to the healing rooms. When he reached the stairwell landing next to the healing rooms, however, he noticed that Glorfindel was still outside the healing rooms. A thought entered his head and with a smile, he quickly and stealthily ran up the next flight of stairs to the next floor. He went into the storage room right above where Glorfindel was standing outside the door to the healing rooms, locked the door, and without further ado, set about lifting up a floorboard right above Glorfindel's head.

"Hello," he said, when he had done so and laid himself down on his stomach beside the hole, his head over the narrow gap.

The golden haired elf on the floor below started and looked up, his eyes wide. Then his eyes returned to their normal size and the tall cannibal rose and snorted and smiled and whispered, his eyes set unblinkingly on him, his hands lying slack at his sides, "Hello Lindir."

Lindir beamed back. He was used to Glorfindel's stares. "I have a question for you," he said. "Will you answer it?"

"Will you come down?"

Lindir giggled. "Nay, because then you will stuff and eat me."

"What gave you that idea?"

"You stuffed Melpomaen. He is my cousin."

"Did you see me stuff Melpomaen?" Glorfindel blinked slowly.

Lindir did not care to let Glorfindel lead him on a silly meandering conversation so he changed the subject and said, "Why do you like elf meat?"

"Why do you like toffees?"

"You know I like toffees?"

"You know I like elf meat?"

"Why do you like to eat elflings? Why not eat an adult elf?"

"Why do you like to eat lamb over mutton?"

"It is softer and sweeter?"

Glorfindel made an amused noise in his throat and took a step closer so that he was now standing almost directly beneath Lindir and gazing straight up at him. Lindir did not so much as blink. He knew he was too high up for Glorfindel to touch him without a chair on which to stand. "There, you have answered your own question."

"How do you choose your next meal? Do you choose the elf by his or her size in addition to their age?"

"Sometimes."

"By what else do you choose them?"

"I also choose them by how much anyone else will miss them."

Lindir nodded. "That makes good sense. So what is the best way to cook an elf? Do you fry him? Do you boil him? Do you bake him? Do you mince him? Do you put him in a pie? Do you roast him?"

"I change the cooking method depending on my mood and the type of meat. I like to fry the liver, certainly. With onions and garlic. Can you cook? If not, I will be happy to teach you."

Lindir just grinned and moved onto his next question. "You stuffed my cousin. Were you going to roast him?"

Glorfindel just smiled. "Why are you asking these questions, Lindir?"

"Were you going to roast Melpomaen and then eat him?"

"Are you alone up there?"

"I am not alone."

"You are lying to me, Lindir." In spite of the chastisement, Glorfindel's smiling expression did not change.

"I am not lying."

"You should not lie to me, Lindir."

"I am not lying."

"Do you know what happens to liars, Lindir?"

Lindir ignored him. "When you met me the other week, were you going to stuff and eat me? Or were you going to stuff and display me with the other creatures in your front room?"

Glorfindel just stared intently at him for a long time, an odd smile playing around his lips. Lindir gazed back, keeping his own expression carefully schooled in amicability, in echo of his uncle's own false expressions. His smile, however, faded abruptly when Glorfindel suddenly and silently moved swiftly out of sight _towards the stairwell_.

Lindir jumped back and turned around to look at the door to check that it was indeed locked. It was, so he looked at the window. That was also locked. Good. He breathed a little sigh of relief, then stiffened when he heard a little clicking noise in the lock below the door. His blood ran cold.

_Glorfindel was picking the lock._

Eyes wide, he ran to the window and fumbled with the locks on the shutters. No good; they were old and rusted. He looked wildly about the room and the piles of dusty items about him. Then, when he heard the lock begin to turn in the door, without thinking, he ran to the most likely looking instruments to help him. As the door opened, he seized them, threaded the gleaming orc arrows to the bowstring, and turned around to send the three arrows flying true and hard and straight into Glorfindel's breast. THWACK!

The tall heavy elf fell with a loud thud to the floor. Lindir stared at his fallen body and shut eyes for a few moments, blinking a little in surprise. Then, after a few moments, when Glorfindel did not move, he smiled and gave a little giggle. He had done it! He had won!

He hummed to himself and rose to go over to shut and relock the door. Then, on hearing a gurgle behind him and the sliding of limbs on the floor, he whirled around to observe Glorfindel struggling to get up. Blood was dribbling from the wheezing elf's mouth. Lindir shivered at the cold, maddened expression in the elf's eyes and looked wildly around once more. His eyes fell then on a heavy, adult-sized flute in the corner. He ran over to it, seized it, then ran back to Glorfindel, lifted the instrument high over his head, and brought it down with all his might across Glorfindel's face. CRACK! Then he lifted the flute once more and brought it back down. CRACK! Then again! CRACK! Then again! CRUNCH!

CRACK! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRACK! CRUNCH! CRACK! CRUNCH!

Glorfindel collapsed back to the floorboards and once again, stopped moving, but Lindir did not cease hitting him. He hit him until Glorfindel's nose was flattened right into his skull. He hit him until the elf's eyes had split. He hit him until there were no lips, no nose, no eyes, no forehead and Glorfindel the taxidermist's head was staved in so far that Lindir could see his brain and his remaining back teeth and through the gap in the floorboards, he could see blood dripping down onto the floor below. Then, at last, he stopped, breathing hard, his shoulders shaking, his chest heaving, his eyes wide, splatters of wet warm blood covering him from head to foot. Then, finally, he dropped the flute and straightened and out stretched his arms towards the ceiling and did a little stretch.

On relaxing, he left the room, careful to close the door tightly behind him, and went down to the healing rooms to collect some towels. It was an easy task as Elrond and Erestor were still ignoring him. With the towels, he mopped up the blood on the floor outside the healing rooms. Then he went back upstairs to set them down on the big puddle of blood that was pooling around Glorfindel's head. He jumped on them a bit to make them hurry up at the task of soaking up the blood. After a while, he went back down to the healing rooms to get a few more towels, a saw, a big needle, a roll of thick thread, and a pair of scissors. On his way out this time, he also took the two-level wooden trolley on which Elrond had been dumping all of the foodstuffs with which Melpomaen had been stuffed. He wheeled the lot out of the healing rooms, up the ramp beside the stairs, and into the storage room. Then he shut the door behind him and set to work.

First he chopped off Glorfindel's head. It was very ugly to look at now and Lindir did not fancy eating it any more. So he sawed at the neck and then, when his arm grew tired and some of the bone at the back seemed reluctant to split, he seized the head by the ears and tried to pull it off. That did not work, so he tried wrenching it from side to side. That still did not work so he settled for turning the head round and round and round in his hands until at last the bit of bone split and the head popped off. Lindir rolled it into a corner of the room where it bounced before coming to a halt beside a box of crockery. Then Lindir set about tugging off Glorfindel's clothes. Then, on not finding the task of turning Glorfindel over and poking around in his naughty hole with the tips of his scissors particularly appealing, decided to just snip open his skin from the base of his penis right up to his neck and peel it back. Once that was done, he set about removing all of the elf's entrails and placing all the nicer looking ones on a clean towel to one side. The ones he thought ugly, he tossed in the direction of the severed head.

On ripping out the intestine, he wrinkled his nose.

It smelt like a fart now. He tossed aside the intestine and the rectum and then reached in and snipped a big bit out all around the elf's rear end. He did not want any of the elf's icky stuff in his meal. That was unhealthy! He tossed these parts aside to join the other unwanted entrails and the head. Then he picked up one of the cleaner towels and set about patting dry the insides of the elf. He resumed humming as he did so.

Suddenly, he heard a shout from downstairs; from directly beneath the removed floorboard. "Lindir, are you up there?" It was Erestor's voice.

He froze. "Aye," he called back.

"Why is this floorboard missing?"

Lindir looked at the gap in the floorboards. Then he looked back at the body that he was just about ready to stuff. Then he looked back at the gap and slowly rose. "Aye. I will put it back." He crawled over to the gap and set about putting the floorboard back in place.

"You should not play around with the house, Lindir," Erestor lectured from beneath him. "What is that liquid splattered on your face?"

Lindir hurriedly stoppered up the hole so that Erestor could not see him any longer and he could not see Erestor. "It is nothing. I went outside and got a little mud on me," he called back.

"I see. Well go and have a bath and then come back. I want you to help me dress Melpomaen for his burial tomorrow.

"Aye." Lindir cursed Melpomaen, then turned and trotted over to the trolley. He wheeled it over to Glorfindel's gaping abdomen, knelt down beside them both, and began to fill the emptied space with the vegetables. When he had done so, he sewed up all the cuts in the skin with his needle and thread. Then he slowly heaved Glorfindel's carcass onto the lower level of the trolley, plopped the towel with the entrails on the upper level, opened the door, and without any further ado, wheeled the stuffed elf slowly out onto the landing.

He paused to close and lock the door of the storage room behind him (he would clean up in there later), then slowly pushed the laden trolley down the corridor to Glorfindel's rooms, which were just around the corner. No one met him and this did not surprise him; Glorfindel had eaten most of the people on this floor.

He pushed the trolley into Glorfindel's rooms and through the front showroom of stuffed creatures on display: past Nimrodel, past Maglor, past Gil-galad, past someone that looked somewhat like Elrond, past a big white horse with ruby eyes, and into Glorfindel's vast kitchen.

It was blazing hot in the kitchen; the large open oven that took up one wall was already lit. Lindir grinned at the tall flames and wheeled the trolley up to the edge. There he stopped and carefully removed the towel of entrails. He placed these on a nearby table. Then he went over to search the cupboards for a time before returning to the trolley with a jar of salt, a bottle of dried tomatoes, a pepper grinder, some vinegar, and a big pat of butter. He sat down beside Glorfindel's body and proceeded to rub all of the ingredients deep into Glorfindel's skin.

Then, when he was done, he rose and with a great grunt, shoved the trolley into the fire.

He enjoyed the scent and sound of sizzling meat for a time before turning and going over to the sink to wash his face and arms and take off his outer robe. Then he wiped his shoes clean of blood and, after checking his appearance in a nearby mirror, went back downstairs to help Erestor dress Melpomaen in Melpomaen's best clothes.

A few hours later it was noon and the lunch bells were ringing through the house. They had almost finished dressing Melpomaen now; Erestor was just straightening Melpomaen's collar, so Lindir rose. "May I be excused for lunch?" he asked.

Erestor looked at him. Then he frowned and said. "What were you doing in the storage room above the healing rooms?"

"I was playing with the flute there," Lindir replied. "So may I go to lunch?"

"You should be careful when you go on that floor of the house," Erestor said then. "Glorfindel lives on that floor."

"I know."

"Have you seen the trolley, by the way?" Erestor asked then. "We looked around for it not long ago, but could not find it."

Lindir shook his head. "Nay."

Erestor looked at him closely. Then he nodded and smiled and said. "Well, go to lunch, darling. I am afraid I will not be joining you today. I have no appetite after this incident."

Lindir looked at Melpomaen's corpse in its lacy gown for a few moments without saying anything. Then he nodded and turned and ran out of the healing rooms and back to Glorfindel's rooms. He went inside, shut and locked the door, then went to the kitchen. He put a tablecloth on the little dining table there and set a place for one with a big plate, a table knife and fork, a big drinking cup, a jug of water, a napkin, and a little vase of flowers that he had taken from Glorfindel's showroom. Then he went over to the fire, which had died for the most part, put on Glorfindel's big oven gloves and oven boots, and went into the coals to grab the sizzling body oozing with juices by the legs. He dragged it out onto the stone floor beside the fire. Then he grabbed a big fork and knife and poked and prodded at the cooked flesh to check that it was cooked all the way through and that the juices were running clear. Then he cut a big chunk from the flank, carried it over to the table, and set it down on his plate. Taste test time!

On sitting down, he inhaled deeply and sighed and grinned and giggled to himself. He pulled off the gloves, took up his table knife and fork, cut himself a little slice, and forked said slice into his mouth. He chewed and chewed and then smiled broadly. The meat was moist indeed. The meat was tender indeed; it was melting in his mouth. And the meat tasted delectable. He swallowed and smacked his lips slowly and loudly, still smiling broadly.

Elf meat was most definitely the best meat that he had ever tasted in his life.

As he stuffed his next forkful into his little mouth, he turned his head and looked at the rest of Glorfindel's cooked body. Suddenly the body looked rather shrivelled and small and Lindir found his thoughts shifting irresistibly to the elfling corpse lying in the healing rooms downstairs. He tilted his head thoughtfully as he shovelled his next forkful into his mouth.

Glorfindel had said that the meat of elflings was tenderer and sweeter... and it was not as if anyone cared much about Melpomaen now. Not now he was already dead. Not after his burial, certainly.


	8. Vegetarian Glorfindel

Day 01

Have been resurrected. Have been allowed back in Imladris on condition I become vegetarian. Not pleased! Have been placed in irritatingly high walled garden at back of Rivendell. It is used for archery training. Am to sleep in archery shed with two bows and many arrows and remain confined in garden until have both finished practical course in vegetarianism (do not know how long this is) and have repented and vowed never again to eat meat. Will be banished under pain of death if break my vow. Not pleased at all!

Day 02

Have stern supervisor named Golraldir who is to teach me to cook vegetarian food.

Day 03

Have eaten Golraldir with the plum sauce and steamed broccoli he made for me.

Day 04

Elrond not pleased. Golraldir was apparently his chief advisor. Erestor should be pleased with automatic promotion. Perhaps will get Erestor as next supervisor.

Day 05

Boo! Erestor is new supervisor indeed, but he will not make contact with me. He threw a vegetarian recipe book over the wall onto the shed this morning (woke me up). It contained a note: Use this. Eat Lindir or Melpomaen when you come out and I WILL kill you. Did not know Melpomaen had been resurrected. Maybe will have better luck eating him this time. Lindir too, the little s**t! Must catch raven on wall.

Day 06

Boiled brown lentils today. Drained lentils, mashed them up, and shaped them into a liver. Did not taste the same. Was ill. Made Erestor target from straw and shot him eighty-eight times. Shot at raven. Missed.

Day 07

More lentils today. Was sick again. Lettuces in nicest vomit patch looking sick too. No raven. Will not eat lettuces.

Day 08

Snails taste much better than beetroot. Forgot to dry saucepan before adding oil. Got burnt. Ate sixteen snails with onions and butter (am not even allowed butter!). Raven back. Dodged arrow.

Day 09

Out of snails. Tried slugs. Taste even better with chilli. Raven dodged arrow again.

Day 10

Out of slugs. Did not eat. Raven dodged arrow again - very skilled raven. Trained, perhaps? Threw recipe book after arrow. Raven dodged that too. Hungry.

Day 11

Caught raven. Yay! Ate raven with cannelloni beans and stewed tomatoes. Shot Erestor model ninety-three times.

Day 12

Woke up to rain... inside the shed. Roof gone. Not pleased at all! Did not eat. No book anyway. Shot Erestor model one hundred and forty-three times... in groin region. Cold and wet. Also angry. Still hungry.

Day 13

Still raining. Still no roof. Still cold and wet. Still hungry. Book woke me at dawn - it hit me on the head. Hate Erestor's aim. Dropped frying pan on foot. Set tea cloth on fire. Ate cabbage. Hate cabbage. Liked beetle in it. Crunchy. Foot hurts.

Day 14

Still raining. Hate rain. Still no roof. Still cold and wet. Still hungry. Feel abused. Foot still hurts. Ate more cabbage in hope of finding another beetle. No beetle. Disappointed.

Day 15

Same as yesterday. Really hate rain. Hate Erestor too.

Day 16

Found slug. Ate slug. Rain stopped - yay!

Day 17

Cat on wall. Hate taste of cat-meat, but am hungry. Shouted: "Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty..." Cat no longer on wall. Cat in stomach. A little happy.

Day 18

Bed gone. Not pleased at all. Wonder if did something wrong. Hungry.

Day 19

Still hungry. Baked pumpkin pie. Ate pumpkin pie. Threw up. Lettuces now orange.

Day 20

Floor is so hard. Why is bed gone? Ate peanut butter sandwich. Gross.

Day 21

Rain again. Erestor is a callous sadist. Roof gone, bed gone. Ate radish. Was violently sick. Radishes almost as bad as orcs.

Day 22

Pea soup okay. Still raining. Still cold and wet.

Day 23

Potato and leek soup okay too. Nasty bowel action, though. Lettuces look unspeakable.

Day 24

Cornmeal. Yuck. Rain stopped - yay!

Day 25

Passed over lettuce recipes. Ate cauliflower chilli bake with fava beans. Okay.

Day 26

Zucchinis stuffed with roast vegetables. Am good at roasts so very easy. Tasted okay. Roof and bed still gone. Were they needed elsewhere, perhaps? Hope Imladris okay.

Day 27

Like seaweed with sesame and vinegar. Good - very good. Should try harvesting seaweed in Gulf of Lune when get out... if get out. Hate this place.

Day 28

Boysenberry soy ice cream is excellent. Will try more desserts.

Day 29

Sago pudding good too. Maybe could live on desserts?

Day 30

Rain again. Tried almond jelly. Thought thickener came from animals, but book says comes from seaweed. Plants useful sometimes. Wish plant canopy would replace absent roof. Cold and wet.

Day 31

More rain. Rice and coconut pudding. Very good.

Day 32

Still raining. Wonder how long will be without roof and bed. Not hungry. Feel down.

Day 33

Still raining. Not hungry, but tried passing snail anyway. Did not taste nice. Spat it out. Tired. Lettuces look better. Still feel down.

Day 34

More rain. Ate half of apple. Was not hungry for other half.

Day 35

So tired. So bored. Not hungry.

Day 36

Still not hungry.

Day 37

Still not hungry.

Day 38

Still not hungry.

Day 39

Still not hungry. Have lost weight. Why is bed still gone?

Day 40

Still not hungry.

Day 41

Stopped raining. So tired.

Day 42

Elrond in shed with me. He is fatter than before that elfling shot me and staved in my head. Made me drink sweet tasting liquid. Told me to eat. Then he left. Bed and roof back. Good. Have discovered reason for feeling down - am lonely.

Day 43

Slept. Still not hungry. Want to get out of here. Will try good behaviour.

Day 44

Ate a pea.

Day 45

Hedgehog on wall. Why is there a hedgehog on the wall? Cannot understand it. Too tired to catch and pluck it. Too small a hedgehog to bother, anyway. Left it. Ate borlotti bean stew instead. Okay.

Day 46

Bored. Hedgehog still on wall. Ate stir-fry vegetables. Bland.

Day 47

Hedgehog still there. Looks happy despite odd habitat. Ate potato and lentil bake.

Day 48

Ate pumpkin and potato pudding. Tasted good! Waved at hedgehog. Am sure it smiled. Friendly hedgehog. Did not know hedgehogs could be friendly. Am beginning to understand why people keep animal companions... aside from emergency food supply.

Day 49

Hedgehog gone. Ate pear and soy pudding. Shot Erestor forty times in each eye.

Day 50

New cat on wall. Struck me that no non-flying animals should be able to scale that wall on their own. It is too high. So what is it with hedgehog and cat? Ate vegetable curry.

Day 51

Cat still on wall. It meowed at me. Ate chilli con carne.

Day 52

Woke up to find cat in bed, kneading my chest. Cat claws are sharp. Breath stinks too. Teeth too sharp. What if it eats me? Do not like cats. Threw cat over wall. Am sure Erestor is responsible for it. Ate porridge.

Day 53

No cat on wall. Good. Vanilla soy ice cream. Yum.

Day 54

Nothing on wall. Good. Ate lentil... something. Whatever. It tasted good.

Day 55

Elfling on wall... what the...? It is Lindir. Why is Lindir on the wall? Why has Erestor put him there? Ate mushroom and eggplant bake. Lindir read the laws of Imladris to me. Murder has been brought forward since I last read it. Wonder if I had anything to do with that change.

Day 56

Lindir on wall again. He ate a liver and egg sandwich and threw me another one. Sly elfling. Threw sandwich over the wall. Liver looked suspiciously like chopped elf liver. Ate asparagus on toast with oil. Okay.

Day 57

Lindir in garden. _IN_ garden! He gave me a piece of butterscotch. According to the recipe book, butterscotch is a no-no. It has butter and cream in it. Threw it over the wall. He gave me a peanut butter and jam sandwich without butter and a peanut butter and banana and honey sandwich without butter. Ate both. Very good.

Day 58

Lindir in garden again. Asked me what I thought of vegetarianism. I said it was wonderful as want to get out. He asked me again what I thought of vegetarianism and asked me to be truthful. I said it was okay and that I would probably stick to a vegetarianism vow. He is a smart child.

Day 59

Lindir asked for lesson in archery. Gave it to him in spite of intimate knowledge of his good shooting skills. He gave me a tofu pumpkin pie afterwards. Ate pie. Very yummy! He ate a meat pie. Oddly enough, quite like Lindir. He is friendly. Do wonder why Erestor let him in here with me. Odd uncle, if you ask me. Nice to feel trusted, though.

Day 60

Erestor finally came today. So did Lindir. And Elrond. And Golraldir (that was quick!). Made vegetarianism vow. Do mean it. Vegetables and fruit and grains not so bad. Quite delicious, some of them. Elves and animals sometimes better for things other than eating. Like companionship. Orcs perhaps exempt, but orcs taste far worse than radishes. Will stick to vow for now. Feel good.


	9. Glorfindel's Trip To Lindon

Day 1

Elrond informed me this morning that a seat had become available on his council and that he would be most pleased if I took the position. I told him that I will consider the offer, if it still stands, when I return from my holiday in Lindon. He looked most disappointed; I think he was hoping that I might postpone or even cancel my trip altogether in order to seize the station and the corresponding increase in my pay.

Day 6

Today I set forth to Lindon. Everything is in order. Food rations, money, clothing, medicinal supplies, and gifts for friends of mine and for friends of friends who reside on the west shore. Dear Lindir, Erestor's nephew, kissed me goodbye this morning before he left to attend to his after breakfast lessons and wished me a safe and pleasant journey; we are so close now that our former enmity and the cruel and grotesque deeds that I once practiced seem all to be little more than an ill dream. The merest thought of consuming the meat of an animal and stuffing its body, much less another child of Iluvatar, both repulses and astounds me now.

Day 16

The dry heat of this summer exhausts my horse and I. Not once have I discerned a cloud in the sky. I look forward to reaching Lindon and basking in the cool sea breezes for which the beaches of that region are renown.

Day 19

Last night I stayed in Woodhall. Gildor seemed most struck by my changed self; he said that were it not for my face, he would not recognise me now. He most courteously and apologetically adjusted my supper so that it abided by my strict vegetarian diet. His wife, less kindly, pointed out my tan and reminded me of the dangers of exposing my skin to sunlight during the midday hours in summer. My vanity - I am sorry to admit vegetarianism has done naught to suppress it - is thankful for the reminder. I bought a hat this morning and have promised myself that I shall start wearing it when I return to the road this afternoon.

Day 23

I have not worn the hat even for a day. I put it on and looked at myself in my pocket mirror shortly after departing from Woodhall and it makes me look very droll. My vanity would rather the tan than the humiliation. However, I do hope that my skin does not catch another wrinkle on this holiday. I do not know what I shall do if I catch another one or - horrors - more than one. Elrond once told me, off hand, that there is no cure for wrinkles and that it is not for a lack of attempts on his part to find one. However, between you and I, Diary, there is a cure and it is to stretch the skin, but to do such a thing would require utilising some of the abhorrent skills that I gained through activities that I no longer wish to recall. That or slay myself and beseech the staff in Mandos to smooth them away before my next resurrection.

Day 32

Today I arrived at Tower Hills. Tomorrow I shall meet with Lord Cirdan; I have not seen him in many long years; not since I first arrived on the shores of Lindon, in fact. He struck me as a strange and reclusive fellow then. I wonder how I shall find him now.

Day 33

Please, Elbereth, if Lord Cirdan is representative of what I shall look like at twelve thousand summers, then I shall slay myself here and now. His skin is like paper, his eyes are clouded, and his hair is the colour of a storm cloud. Once upon a time it was silver as the rain upon a summer's day. Now, what is left of the rest of the hair on his scalp is thinned and straggly and the rest of his hair appears to have fallen onto the front of his face to form a beard. His wrinkles are like the cracks of the floor of a parched lake and his voice sounds like an ill tuned harp. His memory, too, seems to have faded.

Day 35

Today I reached Forlond, but sadly, there is no relief from the heat on the shores of Lindon. I stayed in my rented villa and, I shamefully admit, I set a servant to the task of fanning my face for the entire day. His arms will be very sore tomorrow. Even more shamefully, I did little else except ponder my existing wrinkles.

Day 36

I cannot abide my wrinkles. When Elrond spoke to me on the subject, he mentioned that time halts for no one and that everyone would, one day in their life, wake up to find that time had marched right over his or her face. Well, in my situation time has left chicken feet tracks at the corner of my eyes. I feel ghastly. I am already so old that whenever my age is mentioned, it is rounded to the nearest century. To think that in only a few millennia I shall be stooped, bearded, wrinkled beyond recognition, and perhaps incapacitated of mind to such an extent that I can no longer recall why others name me a hero is almost too much to be borne.

Day 40

It is too much to be borne. Too much. Today I had the servants carry my bedroom mirror down to the kitchen, then dismissed them all. I sharpened all my knives and set myself to the task of smoothing out my own skin. I blame this heat for this regression of mine, this re-employment of long dormant skills whose use provokes the hatred of others, whose use is condemned by them, whose use I have been brainwashed into rejecting by so-called friends. I no longer care. Curse Elrond and curse Erestor and curse this blasted heat!

Day 41

The servants' stares at the bandages on my face disconcert me; undoubtedly, more than a few of them have heard whispers of my history and suspect that I did the injuries to myself. I fear that the butler will summon a healer. I shall have to leave this villa. When I was in Tower Hills, a Lothlorien diplomat - a handsome fellow - I forget his name - invited me to dine with him at his house. I think I shall return there and accept his offer. I am sure that he will let me stay with him for a few days until my face is healed.

Day 44

The diplomat's name is Halmir and he welcomed me into his abode. I stated that the wounds were the result of a roadway accident in Forlond and he readily accepted the lie. He is a moral and hard-working wood elf, but troubled at heart. When prompted today at lunch, he spoke at length about his unhappy marriage to his wife of twenty summers from whom he feels estranged. He has one child: a todder son, Haldir, and when he speaks of him his eyes shine; he hopes Haldir will, like him, become a marchwarden of the Golden Wood, and plainly misses him greatly.

Day 47

I removed the bandages this morning and am surprised by how pleased I am with my handiwork. My skill with a knife does not appear to have waned with time at all. I miss those days of lavishing energy upon perfecting others' cadavers. My fingers itch. I will stop writing now. I have already written too much.

Day 48

I now perceive the reason for Halmir's estrangement from his wife. Last night, after supper, he invited me most hesitantly to his bed. I accepted. His skin is beautiful, his body so shapely; true youth is the key - no degree of mastery with the knife can create such smoothness, such supple tender flesh. I feel like a troll beside him. Why is age so cruel?

Day 51

Three days and four nights we have spent together in each other's embrace. I have not spent my mind idly either. He is due to return to Lothlorien in six days. Tomorrow the deed shall be done. I have considered carefully each step of the method and how I shall proceed should any variable shift beyond my control.

Day 52

It is done and I am reborn again. Not a single complaint did he venture, so lost was he to the sedative that I dropped into his wine last night. This is without question my greatest work to date. My skin I have removed in its entirety and replaced with his glorious cloak. My underlying facial structure I have changed in order to accommodate my new covering. I look like him. If I affect my voice, I even sound like him. I am young once more. I am Halmir. I shall rest for the next five days and assist my body with the adjustment by feeding myself on his remains. Afterwards, I shall venture to Lothlorien in his place and restart my life, free from the constraints of my former life, free to restart my life, even free - in part - from time.

Day 57

Today, at long last, the rain arrived. Also, today, I set forth from Lindon... but not for Imladris. Today, I set forth to Lothlorien and a new life.


	10. Glorfindel's Trip To Lothlorien

Day 116

At long last, I have arrived in Lothlorien. It has not stopped raining since I left Lindon and I am drenched, but no matter. After delivering my report to Lord Celeborn, who barely looked at me, I ventured to my talan. I am thankful that Halmir was so willing to provide me with his address in Lindon; I would be lost in this labyrinth of near identical tree houses without such information and be regarded most strangely if I asked for directions. Inside the talan I discovered Halmir's wife and son. I do not understand why Halmir perceived his wife to be distant; she is warm towards me and she cried and smiled when I presented her with the jewels that I bought in Tower Hills on the day of my departure. His son, Haldir, however, ran away when I attempted to embrace him. Perhaps Haldir, close to Halmir as he was, has already sensed something amiss about me. Thankfully he is only a small child and is the only person who seems to be truly, deeply close to Halmir. If he proves troublesome, I can easily dispose of him.

Day 121

Five days have passed and I am almost ill with delight at how readily other elves recognise me as Halmir. No one ever hailed me with such delight when I was Glorfindel. Not once... ever... have I felt so loved.

Day 124

My "second honeymoon", as Halmir's wife so lovingly named our last few days making merry with each other in bed is now over and I have been called to the northern borders to lead the guards there. The guards are young and naive; most of them have never fought in a war. Do I dare to taste them? I fear the captain of the guard will notice if I take even just the smallest and weakest of them for supper.

Day 137

I hunted down a lone and lost orc on the borders yesterday. It has been so long since I hunted something with only a bow and arrow; I had forgotten the excitement, the rush that floods through my body as I strike it down. I had not, however, forgotten the taste of orc meat. It is... indescribable: terrible compared to elfling meat, but oh so superior to venison. I look forward to the next orc that comes into my sight.

Day 215

Today I returned to Halmir's wife and she announced that she was with child. I am to be a father. I do not know what to say... I am speechless. Actually, I am not speechless - I do hope that this child does not grow to be as smug and smart as Lindir and if he does, that he far exceeds Lindir in those abilities and wipes that look of self-satisfaction off that Rivendell brat's face.

Day 218

Haldir still distrusts me. He refused to eat the orc meat that I brought home from the borders last night. I told him that it was beef, but he does not believe me and I do not blame him. What kind of beef is black in colour? I have started to outline his demise. Halmir's wife said that the meat tasted pleasant, whatever it was. I wonder if she would like Haldir's meat... I am certain that she would love it.

Day 259

News of my disappearance, Glorfindel's disappearance, has reached Lothlorien. The news was presented in a brief statement at a meeting of the guards in the city barracks. Nobody here seems to care very much that I have disappeared; a few of them seemed almost jubilant. I am slightly disappointed, but also glad. No one has mentioned that I was last seen in the company of Halmir.

Day 569

Halmir's wife gave birth today to a healthy son. His name is Orophin and he has the most glorious eyes. We are very proud. Haldir was the only one in the family unit who seemed to be unhappy with the turn of events. I gave him a stuffed rat with which to amuse himself; he has quite the collection of stuffed animals in his room now - a stuffed cat, dog, rabbit, hare, rat, crow, mouse, swallow, and even a porcupine. This gift giving of stuffed animals started when he asked for a pet. I explained to him that one of the conditions of renting the talan from the landlord of the tree was to agree to not adopt any live animals, but that if he was desperate for an animal, I could provide him with as many stuffed dead ones as he desired. I do not think he understood my meaning at the time, but he agreed and he certainly knows what a stuffed dead animal looks like now.

Day 610

Horror of horrors, Elrond arrived in Lothlorien yesterday morning and showed up on the borders during my shift. Fortunately, he did not recognise me, though a puzzled look entered his face on sighting the northern archery training field full of stuffed orcs shot through with arrows. I escorted him to Celeborn and Galadriel and gladly left him there. I wonder what he is doing in Lothlorien.

Day 615

Elrond has shown no further interest in me. I am relieved. On another bright note, Halmir's wife has announced that she is pregnant again with our second child.

Day 673

Oh merry, merry day. Today, Elrond left Lothlorien and he did not once ask to speak to me alone. After supper, Haldir asked me why I was so especially jubilant that day. I told him that I had fought off a bear which tried to attack me on the borders of the forest and managed to cleverly kill it in such a way as not to damage the skin. I told him that I had stuffed it and brought it home. He told me that I was lying and that the bears of Lothlorien are friendly. I pointed out his error by asking a neighbour to help me lug the heavy thing up to our talan and into Haldir's room. Haldir then accused me of hunting down friendly bears and treating his bedroom like a morgue. I told him to be quiet and go to his room. He sulkily obeyed. I could fit his corpse in that bear and smuggle him out of the realm. I resisted acting on the thought. Sadly, Halmir's wife does love the boy and would be disturbed if he suddenly disappeared.

Day 743

Oh cursed, cursed day. Today, Erestor arrived on Lothlorien's northern borders with Lindir hanging off his arm like an overgrown monkey; he has grown taller since I last saw him. The elfling made straight for me and smiled such a smile that told me that he knows exactly who I am. I should have skinned and eaten him when I had the chance. He grows tougher with every summer.

Day 745

Lindir knows everything. The night after I led the pair to the city, Lindir followed me home to Halmir's talan. Thankfully I noticed him following me with his suitcase before I entered the talan. I confronted him before the ladder and he named me as Glorfindel and asked to speak to me alone. I took him to the talan of a neighbour who I knew was away at the borders at the time. Once inside, he set his suitcase on the table and opened it. Inside was my skin, Glorfindel's skin, the skin that I had foolishly buried underneath Halmir's Tower Hills house instead of burning it. Why did I not burn it? Lindir told me that when he found the skin he intended to expose me immediately and have me put to death, but changed his mind when Haldir, who he knew from toddler camp, wrote to him and told him that although he was not happy that Glorfindel was masquerading as his father, he had noticed that his mother was happy and was concerned for her welfare as a mother of three should Glorfindel leave. Lindir then offered me a choice: to serve his every desire or to take back my Glorfindel suit and be put to death. I told him that I was not very happy with either choice. He told me that I was being fussy. I told him that I would serve him. I have already been through the trouble of Mandos once; I shall try a different experience this time. Lindir expressed his happiness at my choice and told me that he will return to Imladris tomorrow and send me orders by mail via his friend Haldir. Then he left the talan. What a little brat! If only I had stuck him when I had had the chance.


	11. Glorfindel The Sausage Maker

The last four pounds of sausages are dry! Today, at last, I sent off the sixty pounds of elf sausages and forty of orc that Lindir requested I send to him in Imladris before the start of Winter. Pending no unexpected delay, they should arrive on time, and even if not, thank Manwe for the weather, I shall be free of his demands until the middle of Spring. I will not miss sneaking around like a rat with a shovel amidst the burial mounds of Lothlorien's cemeteries for him.

I intend to spend the winter with my family. I have neglected them and Orophin in particular appears to be suffering for it. Only last week, he was dismissed early from his primary school botany class in disgrace and I was summoned to meet with the teacher. Apparently Orophin plucked out the eyes of the classroom mascot - a Rhovanion dwarf hamster - before the start of class and then, during class, slipped them down the back of the elfling sitting in front of him. Needless to say, neither the teacher nor the class were particularly impressed.

The act itself does not shock me; tormenting animals is a favourite hobby of his that he is permitted to engage in at home in his room. It is the context that disturbs me. Why would he do such a thing in public? To a creature so obviously valued by his peers and teacher. Has he no concept of the word discretion? I have lectured him time and time again on the appropriate times and places for sadism, but seemingly to no avail. He seems to suffer from the same absentmindedness as his mother, who still has not noticed, dear lady, that I am not her husband Halmir save in appearance. I hope Orophin grows out of this strange phase and develops some of the prudence of his younger brother Rumil... or even Haldir. Indeed, perhaps I should encourage him to spend more time with Haldir. In spite of Haldir's hatred of me, and his awkward friendship with that cursed creature, Lindir, Haldir does not appear to dislike either of his step brothers - far from it - incredibly, he seems to tolerate their company rather well when they are not hungry and attempting to gnaw on his limbs.

Speaking of Haldir, yesterday he began archery lessons with the adult trainees. He is still only an elfling of forty-six, but his skill with the bow is now so advanced that his primary teachers believe that his talent would be better nurtured in the barracks. Soon, in a few summers, he will come out onto the borders with me. When he returned from his first lesson yesterday, I overheard Orophin ask him if Haldir might teach him how to shoot a bow. Haldir avoided answering the question and I think he did so deliberately for the same reason that I would have done the same: in light of the Rhovanion dwarf rabbit... hamster... or whatever sort of rodent it was incident, I think Orophin, at this point in time, cannot be trusted to not shoot all of us.

Perhaps it is my fault that he is unable to differentiate between socially acceptable and unacceptable behaviour. Perhaps I should not have agreed to take him with me to exhume his former classmate's body from the south-west cemetery that night last summer. Perhaps I should not have carven up the corpse in front of him. Then again, he did not protest the recycling of the elfling's flesh and devoured it quite happily with the rest of the family (except for Haldir, of course) over the next few days so perhaps I am dwelling needlessly on the incident. Orophin did say that he had not been friends with the elfling... or did he say that he had been friends? I have forgotten; I should have paid more attention to his words at the time. Or not; Rumil accompanies me regularly to my workshop where I ferment and dry the meat that I send to Lindir and has demonstrated no ill effects from being exposed to my secret work.

Of all my children, I am without question closest to Rumil. Like Orophin he has a happy disposition and can see mirth in everything, but he is also cautious of the ramifications that are tempted by my work and Orophin's interests. Two of his self-declared favourite activities are observing my work and enjoying its produce: the meat and the stuffed animals that I create for him to sleep with at night. Recently, he has also displayed an interest in cooking and sewing, and frequently badgers his mother to teach him these skills. She has agreed to do so, but perhaps I should take him under my wing and teach him the skills myself. I doubt that he desires to learn his mother's vegetable recipes or her cloth sewing techniques, areas on which she will undoubtedly focus - she wars daily with Rumil at the table on his dislike of vegetables and indeed anything except for meat. She calls him her Carnivore. She has nicknames for all of the children. Haldir, of course, is her Vegetarian. Orophin has a number of nicknames. She called him Cat Skinner after she found his first skinning attempt in his room - one of our cat-loving neighbour's more noisy cats. Then she named him Toe Collector on finding his collection of dried toes in her old jewelry box, which Orophin has appropriated. Most recently, she has named him Eyeball Plucker, on account of the incident that I mentioned earlier. She uses these nicknames in private and infrequently; indeed, I have noticed that she increasingly stays away from Orophin. I suspect she is frightened of him and after he asked her if he might add one of her toes to his collection, I am not surprised. He is very imprudent.

Incidentally, after he asked his mother for one of her toes, he asked me for one of mine. I advised him to take one of his own if he was desperate, but he looked at me most confusedly and said that it would hurt if he took one of his own. Plainly, then, he has an unusually low tolerance to pain and if I hear of more public displays of sadism at school and/or his school grades slip further, I can threaten him with a belting to prompt him into prudence and to work harder.

Rumil, like me, has a high tolerance to pain. When he clamboured into that coffin two months ago and the lid fell and crushed his leg, he barely cried out and waited until I had finished refilling the grave whilst he kept watch before excusing himself to visit the healer. The leg is completely healed now; Haldir removed the cast last week and has dutifully taken Rumil for after-supper walks with him every day to exercise the limb. They seem to genuinely enjoy each other's company and until I see evidence that Haldir has ulterior intentions, I will not interfere with their growing friendship. I saw Rumil's favourite stuffed dog on Haldir's bed mat again this morning, proof that Rumil slept with Haldir last night rather than with Orophin, as was normal until last week. It is for the better, I think; Rumil has been more awake and I have seen fewer new cuts on his body since he made the move.

I wonder if perhaps the two incidents: Orophin's mutilation of his class' mascot, and Rumil's new friendship with Haldir and shift out of Orophin's room, are related... that would explain the thirteen fresh rat entrails that Haldir asked me to clean out of his bed mat this morning, the reason why I went into his room. According to Haldir, they appeared in his bed whilst he was asleep. Of Orophin and Rumil, Orophin is the only possible culprit. I cannot see why Rumil would leave entrails in his own bed. I will need to keep an eye on all of them.

Haldir's relationship with Lindir also seems to have soured. Oddly enough, in spite of the almost two score summers since I became Lindir's meat dealer and Haldir, Lindir's go-between, I do believe that until last Summer, Haldir was taking Lindir's orders for me to send him pounds of "strawberry cake", "extra moist strawberry cake", "liquorice", and "sherbert" quite literally. He only realised the connection because I happened to be doing the cooking that Summer's day and referred, off-hand, to the elf steaks that I had grilled for dinner as "strawberry cake". I think his realisation that Lindir is as much of a cannibal as the rest of the family is a positive development because he no longer tries to provoke me by mentioning the name of that Imladris brat. Save for today, when I had need to use the name of that brat to address the packages, these last few months have been the most Lindir-free and therefore, peaceful, months since Erestor first adopted Lindir as his ward. The next few months until his next order arrives will, I hope, be even more blissful.


End file.
